


Ships Passing At Night

by TBCat



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, M/M, Role Reversal, Slow Build, but with Jun and Mingming, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TBCat/pseuds/TBCat
Summary: Pledis had the bright idea to throw a handful of prepubescent boys into a room and live-stream them practicing as a way to pick the debut team for their next boy-group. They called it "17tv". Somewhere in that process Yao MingMing left Pledis Entertainment, and Wen Junhui and Xu Minghao debuted under Pledis.What if things went a little bit differently; what if people followed a different track?
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35
Collections: ENFANT D'ÉTÉ - ROUND 1





	1. Debut

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for prompt S126, where Junhui left Pledis Entertainment instead of Mingming. Later on, Junhui appeared on QCYN as a trainee when Minghao was a dance trainer. I have everything planned out and will hopefully update about once a month. 
> 
> For QCYN fans, I am sorry but this is a SEVENTEEN focused fic. I love my QCYN bois but they are all just part of the setting to the JunHao drama.

The room is so dark that the silhouette of a pigeon outside the window looks bright. The room is as cold as the wind chill off a concrete building in winter. Jun bundles himself more tightly into his padded comforter, and tries to seal any cracks like he would when wrapping dumplings for his mom. He can feel the dawn creeping on his precious time loafing in bed in the dark, but he can't trick his body back to sleep. His phone chimes with a message notification. Jun wiggles around until his face can peak from an improvised hole in the blankets like a stray alley cat. He considers ignoring the message until morning proper. Jun stretches with a dramatic groan so that his back arches and lets his yawn stretch from his jaw to his toes. His feet peek out of the bottom of his comforter with a wiggle. He snatches his phone to check the message. 

It is written in Hangul, and Jun squints blearily at the bright screen in confusion for a minute. He wasn't truly sleeping, but Jun's brain doesn't want to leave the foggy clouds and translate the pixels. Finally, Jun reads the display name and his brain switches lanes to Korean with all the grace of a Hong Kong taxi driver. Soonyoung's message sits on Jun's phone with blase friendliness, as if Jun didn't fail out of their time together as a trainee. Jun's spine twinges at the memory of the tuberculosis that left him recovering for months and missing his opportunity to debut as a successful idol. Jun pushes the old aches out with a firm huff. Soonyoung is friendly and positive. More admirably, he works hard to be those things, and he is demonstrably sincere in his determination to keep in contact. Jun is happy that his friend is doing well. 

The group - not Jun's, not anymore, but his many friends' - is having their first world tour. Jun excitedly sends his congratulations. It's a big deal, and Jun is happy for the Pledis Boys. Jun is happy that Seventeen is doing well. 

"Will you be able to see us?" Soonyoung texts. Jun swings himself to a seated position in bed and promises to get himself a ticket. He is happy for them.

The chat message from Zhou Jiequong is a surprise for many reasons. Jun is honestly scared of her so he drops everything, including his phone, when he sees that she messaged him. He scrambles to pick up his dropped bag of chips and see what she needs. Jiequong is gorgeous, and confident, and succeeded under Pledis where Jun failed. She also likes to drag Jun with her as a bodyguard and tour guide when she passes through Shenzhen. 

Its worse than her asking to usurp Jun's day at the last minute. She is asking about his progress in breaking back into the entertainment industry. Jun curls up into a ball and hugs his knees. He is precariously balanced on the spinning stool behind the counter of his part time job. 

Jiequong is asking about Jun's progress because he keeps promising himself and others that he will make it back into the industry. It's been too many years and too little progress. Jun crumples his empty bag of chips with a puff of salty air and thinks of how to answer. Jiequong gets impatient.

"Try out for the show this time," She messages imperiously, "I won't be one of the mentors, but still." 

Jun messages back and forth a while longer with Jiequong. Talking to her was like drinking a soda while thirsty. Jun was immediately refreshed as he heard her complain about training and worry about her upcoming schedule even though he knew the conversation would just make him more thirsty for a job on stage. Jiequong likely realized that too. She doesn't bother pushing Jun about the second season of Idol Producer again, but Jun finds himself looking up videos from season 1 on iqiyi in between checking out customers. 

It's tempting. If Jun could find an agency to get him onto the show, he would grab the chance with both hands. Jun even considers trying to get through the audition as an independent trainee. A barb of hope digs into Jun's heart. Desperation slowly drips out. 

The feeling of being wanted is like finally having a drink of water after the first workout in a long time. Junhui feels accomplished and satisfied and ready for what is to come. He is just a trainee, but Banana Entertainment is an established company that gets results - and they wanted Jun. 

The company wanted Jun because they needed warm bodies to submit to Qing Chun You Ni. Jun trades polite introductions with the members of Trainee18 he is teaming up with. Jun bows politely to Li Huangyi in deference to his age. Alternatively Wang Zhe, Che Huixuan and Jun are all the same age, and Jun lets himself breathe through the fragile new friendships planting roots in his lungs. Che Huixuan waxes melodic rhetoric about being mentored by Xu Minghao, and suddenly his lungs feel tight. Jun keeps quiet and listens to the others’ theories of what to expect from Qing Chun You Ni. A month is a short deadline to prepare a team performance. Jun's blood sings with adrenaline.

The intern calls Jun out of the waiting room and directs him to stand in front of the camera. Jun has never been scared of auditioning, and he can’t think of the PR video as anything other than an audition. An audition to be the idol of choice for all of China. Jun sets the hot dog grill in his arms on the table with a thud and bows in thanks to the staff helping set up the cameras and props. He loses himself in the pattern of trading greetings and pleasantries. Jun tries to learn everyone’s names now; these might be the same staff for the entire show. 

The staff shooed him away as soon as he finished filming. They’re giggling and hiding laughter, so Jun is hopeful that his video will be funny enough to earn him some fans. He licks fresh grease off his lips. It tastes like potential and expectations. Jun truly believes that he might get into the A Class, and even debut through this competition. 

Its the first day. Jun will not get into A Class, and Jun will definitely not debut through this competition. He smiles automatically at the closest camera and listens to the other trainees chatter in the stands. Che Huixuan whacks Jun’s shoulder in breathless excitement. 

“It’s them,” he squeals, “the teachers! The teachers!” Jun makes excited noises and leans forwards to get a good look at the people about to judge his future. His stomach feels cold and his hands feel sweaty. “Little Hao is so close,” Che says in breathless disbelief. 

Jun sits back and turns his gaze towards his label-mates instead of risking looking at the face of the man that took his place. “He’ll be even closer when it's our turn to perform,” Jun says teasingly. Che pales and groans. Jun snickers as his label-mates devolve into playful bickering. It is a distraction.

His label-mates are a distraction from Xu Minghao sitting at a table below him. His label-mates are a distraction from the rising fear that the song Jun is ready to perform won’t be impressive in between the many other trainees performing today. Finally a production assistant calls for Junhui, Che Huxuian, Wang Zhi, and Li Huangyi to move backstage. “We can do this,” Li says encouragingly. 

Jun smiles and shows off his name tag for the cameras behind stage. He and his labelmates encourage each other. Che threatens to haunt whoever tells Xu Minghao about his history as a fanboy. The staff hurries them along.

Jun and his label-mates form a neat line and introduce themselves. Jun focuses his gaze on Mentor Lay; who is comfortably awe inspiring instead of gut-turning to look at. Li Ronghao’s gaze is threateningly blank-faced. Jolin Tsai is intimidatingly beautiful. It would be awkward to try and focus on the rap mentors where they sit cross-wise from Jun. Xu Minghao makes Jun think of old aches he has left in the past instead of the fresh beginnings he is determined to make of the future. 

Mentor Lay is actually a traitorous snake-spawn. Jun’s blood freezes like his stage-smile as Lay speaks. “You’re familiar with trainee Wen Junhui, aren’t you?” he asks Xu Minghao with a chipper smile. Jun can see the glint of true evil in Mentor Lay’s eyes. Jun forces himself to look at Trainer Xu; they’ve never actually met before now.

Xu Minghao is perfectly groomed with delicate features. His expression is polite as he smiles at Junhui. Junhui sees no recognition in Xu Minghao’s eyes. Xu Minghao’s neatly worded response and words of encouragement are impressive. Junhui responds with equally genuine-sounding niceties for the cameras trained on the stage. He ignores the surprised, murderous gazes of his label-mates. His joints feel frozen stiff by the cold appraisal in Xu Minghao’s eyes. 

Jun breathes hot air slowly out of his mouth before winking at the camera. He is ready to perform. He is ready to earn the first A ranking among the trainees. His label-mates are in position and know their parts. Jun is ready to throw himself to the mercy of the stage and allow the flood of adrenaline to wash him away. 


	2. Chapter 2

Teenage boys are like monkeys in a zoo, climbing over each other with playful curiosity and open friendliness. Junhui lets the background noise of excited chatter settle over his shoulders like a warm but itchy blanket and focuses on unpacking his single suitcase. He is lucky enough to room with Li Huangyi, so he only has to share a room with two strangers instead of three. Junhui shakes out the green shirt the producers gave him and looks at it with bittersweet determination. 

The D ranking is like a meal without meat. Junhui feels unsatisfied but not unhappy or defeated. “Do you want the top or bottom bunk?” Junhui asks.

“You can have the bottom bunk,” Li Huangyi replies, “but where are you going to hide those?” Li points at Junhui’s eschew suitcase and the collection of spicy snacks.

Junhui puts a finger to his lips, “Shhh.” He winks at the camera in the corner of the room with a smile. “I can just stash them under the bed or something.” 

The camera crew finds the snacks easily, and they resist Jun’s flirtiest attempts to stop them. The production assistant following the crew does promise to set the snacks aside for Junhui when filming is finally over, which Junhui thanks them for politely. Li rolls his eyes at Junhui’s greasy words. When Junhui turns back to the dorm room after the camera crew leave, Li Huangyi nails him in the face with a gently tossed towel. 

“You can have the first shower,” Li says. Li is genuinely so caring.

* * *

Sweat drips off the tips of Junhui's hair like rainfall. He flicks the wet strands back in time with the music while trying to match the weight change shown in the choreography video. The crowd of trainees in the room jump and shout in concert with Junhui's pounding heart. His breath wheezes through his nose and throat in dry rasp like the crinkle of thin paper. Junhui holds the end pose of the dance and smiles at the camera with wide eyes. The muscles of his face feel tight with yearning. 

The group breaks and collapses to the ground with groans and shouts. Someone calls for a break, and Junhui slumps down to the floor.  _ Pick Me _ is a song that targets the trainees' emotions like an arrow to the heart, and the choreography is surprisingly demanding. Junhui can see the recording of Minghao's crisp movements on the back of his eyelids as he tries to slow his breathing, and his expression during demonstration felt oddly mocking. It was almost like Minghao was challenging whether Junhui was good enough to ever compare with him. 

Junhui rolls over with a groan and sweeps his torso around until he has enough momentum to swing to his feet. It is easy to duck through the boisterous crowd and out of the studio room. The hallway feels cool and silent in comparison. Covered wires line the floor and hastily taped signs direct the trainees where to go, but there are no cameras or people watching Junhui. He turns the opposite way from the bathroom and takes long-legged steps to the end of the hall. The dead inside air stirs at the speed of Junhui's stride. A door at the end of the hall opens. Junhui pulls his feet together in a stiff stop as his momentum tries to pull him forward.

Minghao steps out of one of the other dance studios with a charming smile behind him. His eyes are quirked with pleasant humor and his hair is gently tousled. His cheeks look flushed. Junhui jealously tries to look for signs of the unattractively sweaty exhaustion he feels instead. 

Minghao stops with surprise as the door closes behind him. They are standing in each other's space with just enough room to breathe between them. 

"Oh, Junhui-Ge," Minghao says. His expression falls carefully flat and guarded for a fraction of a second, like the solid weight of a door lock. Then he smiles with polite sweetness. "You look like you've been practicing hard. How has it been going?"

Junhui tries to catch his breath. Minghao's eyes look like the cold reflective glass of a winter window at night. "All the trainees have been practicing as hard as we can, and I probably smell like it, too," he jokes. He steps back out of Minghao's space. Minghao doesn't move. After all," Junhui continues on autopilot. His brain feels distant as if he is riding the back car of a subway with an unknown destination, "none of us would want to disappoint you." It takes a second for Junhui to comprehend his own flirtatious statement. He gives a delayed wink once he realizes what he said, and tries to think of an escape from the conversation. 

Minghao stares quietly at Junhui. Then he steps forwards to place a hand on Junhui's shoulder. "I'm sure you could never disappoint me," he says. It's a trite response, and Junhui wants to be judgmental. Instead he stares at the delicate tips of Minghao's ears as they turn bright red. 

They step apart from each other in a rush. The door to the dance studio opens to let out a production assistant. Junhui laughs awkwardly. "See you soon, Teacher," he says formally. 

Junhui rushes down the hallway and ignores the production assistant's questions from behind him. "Did you get the crew to promise to wait here?" Minghao asks. His question distracts the production assistant. Junhui focuses on the squeak of his shoes against the laminate of the hallways. "I want to surprise the hardest working trainees with some snacks," Minghao says shyly. His voice seems to follow Jun down the hallway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. Not only am I planning for this to be a vaguely unsatisfying slow burn of a drama, but I also will be updating on a monthly schedule, so... enjoy the torture! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY that this chapter is so late. I meant to have it done and posted by the first of the month, but real life got in the way. (I have literally dealt with a series of family emergencies on top of my normal responsibilities, so...)
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter done by the beginning of July so that I can be back on schedule, but we will see.

Junhui can feel the dead air of the training room pushing against his body as he practices the routine one more time. He’s so tired. His eyes feel dry and crusty except for when the sting of sweat drips down his forehead. He can hear the ‘Qing Chun You Ni’ song on repeat in time to the pounding of his heartbeat. Wang Zhe grabs the edge of Junhui’s shirt and pulls. 

Junhui is too tired to catch his balance. He collapses on Wang Zhe with a shout, and tries to dig his elbows into Wang’s gut at the same time as he goes limp. 

“Get off of me!” Wang shouts. Junhui rolls creakily to sit up. He can feel each bend of his spine.

“It's your fault for sabotaging me,” Junhui pouts, “when I’m working so hard to move up from D-Class.” Wang Zhe offers Junhui a water bottle that he accepts gratefully. “I can’t believe even my own label mates are against me.” Wang rolls his eyes. 

“You’re a sure bet for the debut team,” Wang says flatly, “but you’re complaining to me when I don’t let you overwork before we record our individual performances of the theme song?”

Junhui blinks away from the sleep trying to sneak up on him to focus on Wang. “Are you struggling with any parts of the performance? Do you want me to go over it with you? You’re not worried, are you?”

Wang smiles shyly. “I’m good, thank you, Ge,” he answers, “I just think we would both benefit from some rest.” Junhui leans against his shoulder for a second. He can relax until it's his turn to record. 

Wang Zhe is right. The break helps Junhui’s heartbeat slow down. Junhui can hear the other trainees trying to laugh off their nerves. This is a step towards debuting, and Junhui is ready to reach out and grab it even as his arm shakes from exhaustion.

The recording process is a mess barely contained by the flustered staff. Trainees stumble over lyrics or their own feet when Junhui knows they know the routine. Others perform flawlessly with charisma and energy. Junhui shoves the images of other dancers out of his mind and focuses on the red light of the camera recording him. His muscles know the dance routine better than they know how to walk. He fills his lungs and pushes his throat to sing the lyrics with as much emotion and passion as he can. Junhui knows the routine. He knows the routine, and he knows that he is only going to get into the A rank if he can show his ability to perform. The song ends as soon as it starts and the other trainees are clapping as Junhui poses and tries to catch his breath. He can’t remember how he did. All he remembers is a rush of adrenaline pushing him towards success. 

Junhui knows that he did great. His recording was great, but it wasn’t good enough. Junhui moved from Rank D to Rank B, but only the top nine trainees will debut. Junhui can’t be great. He has to be perfect. 

Recording the actual theme song performance is easier. The process is longer and more involved, but Junhui doesn’t feel like an ant under a microscope this time. He gets dressed in his uniform and lets the staff carefully mess with his hair and powder his face and shine his lips with gloss, but Junhui is mostly responsible for standing where he is told to and reacting dramatically enough for the cameras. He cheers with everyone else and calls out his opinions. When the music starts he can dance and sing without thinking, even from his new position in Group B. 

Watching the lucky A rank trainees compete for the center position is a fun surprise. Breathing past the knife buried in his lungs from jealousy is easy from years of practice. Instead of imagining himself on stage, Junhui cheers and laughs for the performances he enjoys in the moment. He will claw his way up there. He will. 

The competition is like a pebble. Every step forward is a painful balancing act. His feet are calloused and sore. Trying to stand up straight strains Junhui’s core and makes his breathing shallow. However, he is sure that soon the pebble will be a stepping stone. Junhui will push forward on this path as it scratches through the soles of his feet to his heart and soul, and then he will debut in victory. The future is dark and he can only follow the dubious directions given by the Qing Chun You Ni staff, but the dim light of performing on stage keeps pulling Junhui forward. He will keep balancing on this stepping stone and reaching for the next handhold. However, sometimes Qing Chun You Ni provides Junhui room to breathe. Sometimes, the tightrope Junhui is balancing on turns into a sturdy bridge and Junhui can take a moment to enjoy how far he has already climbed. He tries not to look down; it is too easy to imagine his body smashed against the rocks of obscurity.

"You only get one phone call," the staff warns, again. Junhui smiles and nods politely as he holds out his hand for the familiar weight of his phone. He has missed his friends and family and the unconscious comfort of being able to contact them for for support whenever he wanted. 

Junhui turns on the phone and bounces his leg nervously against the bars of the stool he is perched on. The phone loads slowly. It dings a cheery welcoming tone, and slowly connects to the local network. Junhui takes a breath and straightens from his slouch. He tries to smile reassuringly at his reflection in the camera lens. The Qing Chun You Ni writers are recording everyone's phonecall home to use. Junhui can't control whether his conversation with his family will be charming enough to air. A series of notifications turn his phone into a continuous buzzing chime. Junhui laughs nervously as he scans the banners that populate onscreen in a rush. His coworkers cheering him on. An advertisement from a mobile game. Unread email messages. Support from distant friends. A text from Soonyoung that starts with "Minghao,". His parents' sending him their love. A flagged email from his agency. Junhui dismisses them all with a wink to the camera.

"Thank you for all the support," he says. His brother's phone is at the top of his contact list, and Junhui politely puts the phone on speaker mode while it rings. It connects. His brother answers the phone.

"Jun-ge! Jun-ge!" He cheers through the line. A grin stretches across Junhui's face as his shoulders relax.

"Baby-bro, do you want to be on Television?" 

His brother laughs. "I'll stick to watching you, thanks."

"Oh, well," Junhui teases, "I guess I'll just hang up since they're recording this call and everything."

"No, stop!" The phone crackles and Junhui wiggles his eyebrows silently at the audience. "Uh, thank you for this chance and for taking care of Jun. Please continue to support him. Junhui is my inspiration!" Junhui groans and covers his burning face as his little brother continues to praise him. The camera crew hides silent giggles. Junhui's heart is buoyant. He feels ready to take flight like a bird in spring when the aches of winter are a forgotten memory.

He is going to soar in this competition.

When Junhui was a trainee overseas, he remembers the stress of surviving the company's brutal training as a foreigner. One night Kyulkyung, Mingming, and Junhui stayed up for a marathon of  _ Love O2O. _ They could harmonize "A Smile Is Beautiful" together perfectly with the show by the next morning. A day of training with no sleep was an uniquely painful experience. He wonders if Kyulkyung will watch him perform and remember that night. He doesn't know if Mingming will be too busy to remember their shared misery and unspoken agreement that it was the best remedy for homesickness they had experienced.

Wen Yechen, Qui Bohan, Che Huixuan, and Chen Sijian try their best. Their team still isn't selected to perform on stage. Junhui can feel the center badge weighing down the fragile balloon of joy that was carrying his heart. His head returns to earth. He breathes a deep lungful of cold reality and freezes a beautiful smile on his face. He is still here. He will still make it. He will perform on the debut stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT QUESTION: Do y'all want to read Jun's thoughts about the other contestants? It won't change any plot elements or any parts of the central pairing; it would just effect how I write certain upcoming chapters. (So far I've only been writing about other contestants as they directly relate to helping characterize Jun, which is basically just the other boys in his company; the Banana Bois y'know?)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be posted in July, but then my Professor tried to truncate the schedule for my summer class to accommodate the University's covid plans. I still finished this chapter near the end of the month, but didn't have a chance to sit down and post it. (Formatting, y'all~)

They pull Junhui into one of the side studios during a break period. The rest of the team is practicing, but Junhui follows the staff with good cheer. This is an important opportunity for individual promotion. Junhui doesn't mind the break from repeating music counts and pushing his vocal chords either. He will make up whatever practice time he misses tonight. 

The cameras are a mess of wires and hidden audio equipment focused on a section of three wall panels plastered with circle cut-outs of all the contestants' faces. Junhui zooms towards his face to present it to the camera. "I have a twin!" He laughs. "Do I get to keep it?" The staff behind the camera gesture Junhui towards the center stand where a simple envelope and poll box is set up. Junhui feels his ears heat up for having missed the intended focus of the room. "Which trainee is the most handsome?" He reads with a camera-perfect smile. "Hmm, it wouldn't be fair to vote for myself."

Junhui thinks of delicate bones and sharp lines and laser focus. He thinks of the controlled strength of Xu Minghao as he dances. Junhee strides confidently to the wall to pick out a trainee's head-shot photo. "I think everyone can agree on Yao Chi," Jun smirks at the camera. 

Later they ask him who he would be willing to introduce to his younger sister. Junhui laughs and laughs, honestly, choking guffaws like a mule that kicked its owner. "I love my siblings," he says brightly, "I would never set them up with an idol."

Performances are over, and the smell of workout stress in the dorms has been replaced with the sour scent of fear sweat. Junhui opens the window to air out the room each morning and sprays some of Huangyi's cologne. Staff gathers the trainees in one of the large studios one day and arranges them on bleachers. Junhui follows along and playfully shoves his label-mates to move faster so he can see the surprise. It is a game of tug-of-war. 

Staff from all different departments are lined against the wall for the segment. He cheers and relaxes and lets his worries collapse into laughter like the different participants pulling on the rope fall on the ground in defeat. Winning and losing are just words in this small game. That night they all get to eat hotpot. 

The weather outside the broad windows is clear and sunny. Junhui's pulse still thunders in his ears like a spring storm. Anxious thoughts drip faster than raindrops, and the self-assurances he tries to whisper to himself are washed down the street drain under the deluge. He's drowning. Every breath is a stolen gasp. He keeps smiling, plastic and stiff like a cheap umbrella. Junhui forces air slowly between his teeth and relaxes his face in the mirror of the practice room. He was the center and leader of "A Beautiful Smile". He is determined that his face matches. 

Junhui turns around as the door to the practice room opens. PD Lay enters with a sealed envelope in his hands and a camera crew behind him. Jun bows politely. PD Lay is charming, and polite. His words are like honey. They are rich and sweet and genuine. Junhui tries to swallow down PD Lay's encouragement but his throat feels thick and rough compared against PD Lay's self-assured confidence. 

"You have the ability to go far," Lay says brightly, "but you need to be willing to put yourself on stage." Junhui grits his teeth as his smile starts slipping. "People won't vote for a mask," Lay warns. Junhui nods with a blank face. He takes the envelope with both hands and gives PD Lay a deep bow.

"Thank you," Junhui says seriously, "I won't disappoint." PD Lay smiles brightly against the rainclouds on Junhui's face. He grasps his hand on Junhui's shoulder in wordless confidence before turning to leave. Junhui stares at the envelope in his hands blankly. The conversation with PD Lay sits in Jun's throat like a hasty bite of rice.

Wen Yechen is as bright and curious as a kitten. He quietly watches the group with wide eyes that absorb everything with joy. When he jumps into motion, his dancing is fluid and dynamic as he molds to the group with ease. Junhui wants to lock him in a glasshouse so he can grow and bloom without dealing with the storms of life. Qui Bohan fought Junhui for the center position with the ferocity of a wildcat, and then conceded his defeat with all the grace of an empress. Teasing the boy lights a fire of joy in Junhui's heart, and Junhui feels aching jealousy at Qui's quick friendship with Che. Che Huixuan is a social butterfly flitting from conversation to friendship faster than the eye can follow or predict. His bright personality dominates the attention of the room. Minghao visits their team as the dance trainer, and his conversation with Junhui feels stiff and sideways. The diversion to teasing Huixuan for being such a successful fanboy of Minghao is a welcome diversion. Junhui tries to ignore the flush of green that rises from the back of his stomach at losing Minghao's limited attention. He tries to enjoy the happiness of his friend. Junhui feels like a conversation with Che is a feedback loop of positive energy. Chen Sijian is a dope spotify artist. His calm energy and relaxed humor grounds the group and calms Junhui's fluttering heart. He laughs at Sijian posting singles to Spotify even as he promises to support Sijian in the same breath. Junhui is about to deliver these boys their fate, and he can't guarantee a happy ending. Junhui wanted to join Qing Chun You Ni, and now he has to push through the thorns of competition as they test the strength of his own skill, drive, and ambition. Junhui makes a decision. Whether he opens the card in the pseudo-privacy of this practice room or among the rest of the boys, he is going to have to tell them their scores.

Banana Entertainment's Logo is displayed on the large screen. The boys enter from backstage in a line determined by age order. Junhui wants to bounce or rush ahead of the line or use the nervous energy electrifying his limbs in some other way. He doesn't. He smiles and performs for the cameras with Huangyi, Huixuan, and Zhe at his side. The rankings are announced in reverse order. Junhui has to be in the top ten. He doesn't know if he will even make it to the next round. Huixuan is twenty-fourth. Junhui cheers for his label-mate. Che-che is staying in the competition. Junhui wants to hear his own name. Junhui wants to stay in the competition.

There are only fifteen spots left. Junhui hasn't properly performed on Qing Chun You Ni's stage since his audition, and it is unlikely he will make it into the top fifteen without the point bonus. Li Huangyi, Wang Zhe, and Junhui link arms. Either they will join Cheche on stage, or they will be sent home together. The fifteenth spot goes to someone else. Then, finally. Finally, Junhui's name is called. Huangyi shoves Junhui to his feet, and Junhui stumbles out from the seats. He is laughing breathlessly. Moments later Wang Zhe joins him. They focus their eyes on Huangyi. Junhui hardens his heart before it can break, and refuses to look away. His dream is about to be built on the bones of his friend. He knows that Huangyi didn't score higher than Zhe. Li Huangyi is the first trainee from Banana Entertainment to be eliminated, and the only thing Junhui will allow himself to feel is relief that it was not him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sloooow burn reminder. My focus is Junhui's journey on QCYN, not the pairing.
> 
> With that said, I hope everyone that watched QCYN felt like I did the emotions of the first elimination justice :D.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we should be getting to the resolution and instead I am jst now posting the climax... sorry I'm 5 chapters behind?
> 
> With that said; this is one of my favorite chapters so far even though it was so so hard to write.

Li Ronghao sits behind an electric keyboard and squints stony faced at a field of daisy headed young trainees. Junhui politely straightens his posture. He pushes the memory of his father watching him memorize scripts as a child out of his mind. It has been too long since Jun has seen his family. He can't look to the past while he is busy striding forward. 

Li's class is amazing. He gives them each a chance to perform for the cameras, but Junhui gets distracted listening to Li's feedback. The man guides them with steady determination. His knowledge is intimidating, but it is easy to trust Li's advice. 

Junhui stands in front of Li's keyboard. The hairs on the back of his neck rise with the knowledge of the crowd of fellow trainees behind him. Watching. Listening. Judging. Junhui takes a deep breath. He can smell the lemon cleaning solvent the crew mops the training room floors with each night. It is the same kind that his mom used at their family home. 

Junhui remembers what his family did for him. The efforts his mom made while his dad silently worked to provide them the opportunity to get Junhui a foot into the door of the entertainment industry. He remembers getting hotpot together the first time Junhui was cast in a show as a child, even though he was so young he needed help not to burn himself getting his food. 

Junhui remembers coming home from Korea in failure. His mother cried and his father said, "I understand." Junhui remembers an ache in his back and his lungs and his heart that he didn't know how to shake. He still doesn't know how to, somedays. Junhui sings in a fragile falsetto and lets the muscle memory carry him away. His lungs open and close as he pushes his diaphragm open and bares his heart to the world. That's what performance is; prying open your ribcage with your own hands so that the audience can feast on your vulnerable insides like pieces of sweetmeat. "I understand," Junhui sings, thinking of his mother and father and brother and family. "Wo Ming Bai," Junhui sings. His voice slides across notes like a calligraphy brush across silk.

The polite applause and compliments when Jun finishes are exhilerating. Jun swallows them down like a cool glass of soda. Bubbles rise in his chest and his teeth ache from the sugary sweetness. He wishes he wasn't still thirsty for more afterwards. Teacher Li's comments are the sharp cool waters of a mountain spring. They leave Jun breathless and aching, and cut through his brittle rocky determination, but Li is undeniably gentle and refreshing. Junhui promises to give the songwriting exercise his best, most genuine effort. He can worry about presenting his most favorable self to the cameras during the main challenges, but in this class Junhui just wants to learn. Li says that writing a song in a new genre will improve Junhui, so Junhui will do that. 

Junhui paces the hallways until his feet ache. He stretches across window sills and hangs upside down on couches looking for lost inspiration between seat cushions. He sneaks into practice rooms and plays the piano mindlessly, letting his fingers find a melody that his mind refuses to write. All he finds is silence. The building is filled with trainees playing, chatting, and practicing. Junhui's head is the flat dial of toneless noise at the end of an answering machine. 

It is the middle of the night. Jun refuses to check the time and instead sprawls across the piano bench. His head hangs off the edge, and he can see his upside down scowl in the practice room mirror. He hears the practice room door open with a quiet click, but the shuffle of cameras and staff is missing. Junhui feels like a pool of oil sitting at the bottom of a pan, heavy and congealed. He feels more than hears the quiet footsteps move around the practice room towards the piano.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you," the voice is confident and self assured in a way none of the trainees are. They are all surviving on half burnt emotions and dreams. Junhui flips up to sitting with a rush of blood to his head. He fixes his t-shirt where it has gotten twisted awkwardly by gravity. Xu Minghao stands in front of him. He seems unsure if he should stay or leave. 

"Hello, Sir," Junhui says with a polite smile. "Do you need the room?" Xu's cheeks blush prettily.

"Minghao is fine," he says. Jun watches him glance towards the door before his eyes dart back towards Jun. He looks like a glass statue; pretty but too sharp to touch. "I asked the staff to turn off the cameras so I could practice my group's new song." Minghao says. He doesn't stutter, but his tongue flutters against his lips like he wants to. 

Junhui rolls gently off the low piano bench and rises to stand in front of Minghao. His breathing gently ruffles Minghao's loose bangs. "Feel free to call me Junhui, then," Jun says with a brittle smile, "I'll give you your privacy. I can't wait to see Seventeen's next song."

"No, stay," Minghao commands. His fading blush stays as a gentle pink along his earlobes. "You could watch?" Minghao offers hastily, "or, I could help you with?" He lets his voice trail off for Junhui to fill in the blank. Junhui hums in bemused consideration. He gently falls back onto the piano bench. 

"I'm struggling with Li's songwriting class," Junhui explains. "I would love to watch you." Minghao grins. He pulls out his phone and steps into Jun's space while pulling up a song. 

"It's important to take breaks so you don't get burnt out," he says. There is a spark in Minghao's eyes that threatens to grow into a flame that would devour Junhui alive. "An artist is sharing pieces of themselves with the world. When I hit a block its because I don't have enough of myself left to share." Minghao's smile is the warm encouragement of the summer sun as he sets his phone down on the piano top and lets the demo start playing on repeat. Junhui responds with a mask of a smile. Jun is a performer using wooden masks to pull the audience along someone else's story. He dresses in the emotions of the song until the person of Junhui is unrecognizable, and if the audience sees him instead of the story then Junhui has failed. Minghao threatens to burn through the wooden masks protecting Junhui, and set him alight for the world to see and judge. Junhui feels his heart race every time Minghao's eyes pin him down. 

Minghao dances the way a painter moves across the canvas. Every step and movement is filled with an intention and presence of mind. Minghao tries to perfect the most minute of each angle of his body as it flows through time so that the final perception is the exact image trapped in his mind. Junhui watches with a racing heart and breathless appreciation. 

"Jihoon is still producing for you all, right," he interrupts as the feeling of standing at a cliff's edge becomes overwhelming. Minghao pauses to come to a rest and decide how to answer Jun. Junhui is all misdirecting words and heavy stares like a pile of logs waiting for kindling to set them alight. "I mean, as an artist, are you focused on the choreography or are you working on your own song, or?" Junhui stumbles to clarify. Talking to Minghao is walking a tightrope between challenging him while still being respectful; asking for the information he wants to know while still seeming politely distanced. Junhui feels like he is dancing the waltz for the first time and struggling to hold himself upright while he matches his partner and the music. 

"Jihoon and Bumzu are amazing; they have been handling all the music for the group," Minghao says absently. He strides towards Junhui and sits on the small piano bench next to him. His face is the smooth cool lines of a traditional ink painting, but his ears are flushed a telling red. "I have a personal project I have been getting Jihoon's help with, though," Minghao confesses quietly, "I get homesick even as I chase my dreams."

Minghao changes the demo playing from his phone. Junhui bites his tongue and can't look away. He wonders if watching Minghao will leave him blind to the rest of the world, like staring into the sun. Minghao's song burns through his heart and lungs and Junhui thinks he might be the shadow of the past to the light of the future that Minghao's voice sings about. Minghao looks up at Junhui in hopeful question and it feels like time stutters around Junhui. 

"My I," Junhui says with a playful smile. He doesn't know what character to play. There is just Junhui who is chasing dreams in the dark and Minghao who is burning with the light of his own success. "Let's dance! Do you have a choreo?" Junhui asks. He jumps to his feet and pulls Minghao up with him. Minghao laughs with quiet surprise. If Junhui is stuck walking a tightrope where he could drown in the despair of failure at any moment, then he is going to enjoy the performance while he can. He will juggle the flames and light that appear before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still aiming to update once a month, but.. we will see how successful I am.


End file.
